The Compass of the West
by Akheilos and Delphin Inc
Summary: Challenge response. Two teenage criminals escape from their boarding school/orphanage and draw closer to Camp Half Blood. Upon arriving, one of them gets claimed- a catastrophe, and they get a quest- to find the Compass of the West. Read and Review please


**Hello. It's me, with yet another story. I know I should be updating Lightning Strike, but that was originally a one-shot and I want to delete it and make it just that again- sorry for anyone who wanted a full story. But hey! You can read this one! Oh yeah, for Lightning Strike, Adrian's mother was Astrapê, but in the one-shot I'm ****doing he'll be someone else's son.**

**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians nor do I own Heroes of Olympus and I do not pretend to.**

**This is a challenge response to Cra-zGirl100's Hestia challenge.**

"C'mon," I hissed at my backpack, trying to zip it closed. Dammit. I knew I shouldn't have bought the neon spray paints. We were just fine with the normal colors. I pulled harder on the zipper, but it wouldn't budge. "Dammit!" I cursed, my fingers prickling. I took everything out and sifted through it. Okay, I didn't really need that extra pair of shoes, I could steal some toiletries, and when winter came I'd just steal myself some new gloves.

I put everything except those things back in- ten cans of spray paint, a change of clothes, my cell phone and a small box of Wheat Thins. I never go anywhere without them. I stood up straight and looked around the dark room. The five other guys were asleep, not having heard my curses. I sighed quietly. I'd miss the Stryker Academy dorm. But freedom sounded a lot better.

Okay, I guess I should recap. I live at the Stryker Academy, just outside New York City, an orphanage/boarding school. I was apparently given to this place as soon as my mother didn't need to breast-feed me anymore. I don't mind really, but it is slightly annoying. Okay, I like this place and all, but as I said before: freedom had been sounding a lot better for the last three years.

My two friends, Remy and Ryan, and I were going to escape this place that night. I mean, we'd snuck out before and decorated some alleyways, but that night, we'd escape, like really escape. We were the known troublemakers of the place.

There was Remy, who had been arrested for vandalism, assault of a federal officer and stealing a total of fifteen times (how, I didn't know, seeing that we were all sixteen at the time).

Then there was Ryan, who really was one of the best students, but he had the tendency to be a hacker. Like that one time, he programmed the intercom of the school to yodel. It was funny as shit.

And then there was me. Cole. People told me I was an arsonist and a pyromaniac, and I guess they had a fair point. Even though the teachers tried their best to take away all my matchboxes, they still hadn't found my secret stash, and I always had at least one matchbox on me at all times. The arsonist thing- well, let's just say that I'm not welcome in certain areas of New York City anymore.

Back to the plan. I was going to meet Remy and Ryan outside by the bike shed- easy enough. I breathed deeply, hoisting the backpack onto my back and moved towards the door. I opened it without a sound and slipped through, making sure to quietly close it again. Then came the hard part- sneaking past the teachers lounge. The door was always open at night, and there were always a lot of teachers.

I checked my pockets, hoping to find something heavy- I was in luck. I pulled out a stone- fairly small but very heavy- enough to cause a diversion. Now, here's some geography of the school: there was a T-intersection of K hall, which had all the dorms, and L hall, which had the first classrooms and the teacher lounge. The teacher lounge was right near the intersection, and my dorm was at the end of K hall where it intersected with M hall.

I took the stone in my hand, getting the right feel for it. I knew I had one shot at the wall, and if I messed up, I was probably screwed. I breathed deeply again, trying to calm my body, which was shivering with anticipation. I blinked, aimed, and threw the stone as hard as I could against the wall.

My hit was perfect. I hit the hollow part of the wall that connected two rooms, and the bang echoed throughout the whole school. I ducked in a doorframe on the other side of the intersection as teachers streamed out of the lounge. I knew I only hand a few seconds. I ran.

Looking back, I'm not sure if it was a teacher or the principal who saw me. But someone saw me and I was sprinting like hell to get out of that place. When I got to and exit, all I could do was pray that Ryan's hacker trick worked and all the doors and windows would automatically seal themselves until three a.m., plenty of time for us to get away without endangering the school. I didn't stop to find out if it worked or not- I headed straight for the bike shed.

"Ah, he's alive, what d'ya know?" I heard Remy say through the darkness. A second later, he and Ryan emerged, wearing identical grins on their faces. Many people think they're twins because the only thing that separates them is their personality and intelligence level. Oh, and Remy had snake bites. But that was really it. Both were about the same height, 5'9'' (as opposed to me- 5'5''), had blond hair swept across their face in a weird skater kind of way, and both had brown eyes. They were both skinny but athletic and even wore similar clothes.

That night, Remy was wearing a blue Nike t shirt and white/light blue skinny jeans with Nike skate shoes and his usual leather armband. Ryan was wearing a green Nike t shirt and grey cargo pants but also the same Nike skate shoes Remy was wearing. I guess I was weird compared to them.

First off, my hair was shorter and black. I had it styled up in a fauxhawk, which it did even without the gel. I guess I had been putting it that way for so long it actually started growing like that. I had olive skin, which made me think that at least one of my parents came from somewhere warm- I liked the idea. Furthermore, I was wearing a red V neck long sleeved shirt, black skinny jeans and checked Vans slip-ons.

Back to the job at hand. Remy, Ryan and I looked towards the windows of Stryker, to find them full of faces. Oh yeah, Ryan's little hacker trick worked out wonderfully. I smiled and waved. A couple of kids cheered, whereas the teachers looked ready to murder us.

"Hey man, can I have the orange, please?" Remy asked, a mischievous grin playing on his face. I shrugged my backpack off and dug out the neon orange spray paint. Apparently the neon stuff glowed in the dark. "Thanks man," Remy said, taking the spray paint and walking over to the other side of the courtyard (the bike shed was near the entrance).

Then Remy started spraying. At first Ryan and I had no clue what he was doing, but it became clear pretty soon. When Remy was done, he beckoned Ryan and me to come over. We all signed our names and admired Remy's handiwork. I had to grin. Sprayed in gigantic letters across the courtyard, Remy had written:

_Dear Stryker Academy,_

_You suck d*ck! _

_Warmest regards,_

_Remy Andresen, Ryan Excelsior, Cole Lari_s

And I guess that was when our escape plan started going wrong. We were so high on our freedom that we didn't notice the sirens getting closer. I shot a glare at Ryan, who looked just as baffled as Remy and I did. Remy was the first to awaken form the trance.

"Come on," he shouted at us, sprinting towards the bike shed. Getting some tools out of his pockets, he quickly picked the lock and kicked open the door, emerging only a few seconds later with three mountain bikes. "Well, what're you waiting for?" he asked and we ran forwards, each grabbing a bike. "Ryan, open the gates," Remy commanded as we started speeding up towards them.

The gates opened and it was like in a movie. We cut the curve perfectly, just as the wails of the sirens got silent, and we didn't waist anytime. Not caring to look out for my friends, I hit the pedals hard, gaining speed as I sped downhill. Next to me I heard a yelp of joy and saw Remy, his hands off the handlebars, spread wide as if he was going to fly. I grinned but preferred to keep my hands where they were- I wasn't so experienced with bikes.

A sudden flashing behind us woke me out of my thoughts and Remy apparently too, because his hands landed on the handlebars again and we were speeding up one more time, racing against the cars that were chasing us. A small part of my mind wandered where Ryan was, but the panic at the thought of being caught drove me onwards, a thin sheet of sweat already coating my forehead.

Finally, after about two hours of marathon biking, we stopped hearing the sirens' wails and we fell off our bikes, exhausted. I had barely noticed that we were already in Manhattan, but it became obvious now, with the bright flashing lights and the stink of the city. Still breathing heavily, I turned around to Remy, who was also panting, but grinning.

He put his hand up and hi-fived me. Then, it all seemed funny. We were free. Free! We rolled on the ground, laughing, on a patch of grass in New York City. After about five minutes, we stopped. Something felt off- I could tell. It felt so wrong.

"Dude. Where's Ryan?" Remy asked. That was when I noticed. Ryan wasn't there.

"Dammit," I muttered, then looked at Remy, "the cops must've gotten him."

"Shit…." Remy cursed. "Oh well. Nothing we can do. C'mon, let's see the city," he grinned, and somehow, it didn't bother me anymore that Ryan wasn't there. "You got the paints?" Remy asked, holding his open backpack in front of him. I nodded and took a few cans out of my backpack, carefully putting them in his. "Let's find an alley. I'm itching to etch my name somewhere." Yeah, Remy was weird like that. I just nodded and went with the plan. I didn't speak much- ever- it was always Remy who did the talking.

We found our alley soon enough- Manhattan was full of them. As soon as my hand closed around the spray paint, my mind clicked, and I went into autopilot mode, my hands spraying and shaking of their own accord. I started at the bottom of the wall with red. I sprayed small flames, which would eventually grow into larger ones. Then I lined them with orange and yellow, making them look as real as possible. At good last, I wrote my codename, Ash, in big neon orange letters above the flames.

I stepped back and admired my art- I always managed to surprise myself. I was about to go back into the 'h' and add some finishing touches, when I hear a shout from the end of the alley. My head snapped up, and, to my horror, I saw a policeman standing there. Shit. I turned to Remy. Our eyes clicked and we both nodded.

We went into our 'burn and run' mode. Remy gathered all the paints and started stuffing them into our backpacks, while I applied a thick coat of paint across the alley in a strip. Over and over I sprayed it, making sure it stayed wet. I knew I only had a few minutes. I threw the can at Remy and took out a match, lit it, and dropped it on the wet paint.

The result was, as always, magnificent. The fire roared up into the sky as it did around me, and it seemed to form an impenetrable barrier. Then, we started running. We sprinted out the alleyway and took a sharp let, cutting across someone's backyard. We jumped a fence, ducked under a tree and leapt onto and over a dog house.

I was leading the way- I knew where I was going. The Kawasaki dealer at the end of the street. I had noticed him several times on our little runs from the police, and I noticed he never put his motorcycles in for the night, and he didn't lock them very well. I could hear Remy panting behind me, but we kept going, not wanting to get caught.

Finally we got there, and I pointed at the lock of the chain that bound the line of motorcycles together. Remy nodded and started picking it- which took a few seconds. He grinned as he pulled off the chain and flashed me a 'thumbs up'. I nodded curtly and walked towards the building. I took a deep breath, squinted at the door, took a step back, and kicked as hard as I could against the wood.

The door might not have been stable, but there sure was an alarm. I had three minutes at most, so I wasn't picky about which keys I stole- I just grabbed two and got the hell out of that place. Remy was tapping his foot impatiently and looking around somewhat nervously as he waited for me. I threw him a key; he looked at it and grinned. I looked down at my own. I guess I got lucky- the key was for a Ninja 250r. Always wanted to drive one of them.

Remy was already sitting on his bike- a 250 4-stroke, I noticed- grinning. It would be another chase, we knew it, for in the distance, we could hear the sirens of police cars drawing closer again. They'd never get us though. We started the motorcycles and sped off towards an exit tunnel, in the direction of Long Island, our backlights no more than a gleam in the night.

**What do you think? Also, check out 'Prisoner of the Gods' Review please!**


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